


Training Can Wait

by TempuraSteel



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, New Relationship, Noctis is awkward, Promptis - Freeform, Prompto is uncertain, Romantic Fluff, Sickfic, Slight canon diversion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-25 16:52:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14981438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempuraSteel/pseuds/TempuraSteel
Summary: Prompto has stacks of paperwork to finish for the Crownsguard, but a nasty case of the sniffles is making that next to impossible.  Noctis notices and takes matters into his own hands.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set just prior to the "road trip." I changed Noct's living situation a bit to suit the scene.

He shouldn't be outside of the Citadel. Crownsguard training in the city isn't something the prince attends, but Noctis has never really been one to follow the rules. And besides, he has an ulterior motive. A blond one.

And where was he hiding, anyway?

Noctis knocks upon the last door at the end of the hall with a casual rapping of knuckles, frowning when no one answers. Surely Prompto was in there. Not many other places he could be, if he wasn't in any of the training rooms. Rather than wait, he pushes the door open and peers around the edge.

"Prompto? You in here?"

"Oh," Prompto glances up from the desk with a bleary-eyed smile and a sniffle against a the edge of a crumpled tissue. "Hey, Noct."

Noctis blinks. "Are you . . . feeling okay?"

"Kinda?" Prompto waves a hand with a hoarse laugh. "It's just a cold. Nothing to worry about."

Except that the other man's voice is cracking with every word, which he follows with a strained fit of coughing. The dark blue of Noctis's eyes widens and Prompto wipes at his nose with a self-depreciating laugh.

"Ah, sorry." His eyes glaze with watery desperation as he clamps the wad of tissues over his mouth and nose to muffle a sneeze. Or two. Maybe three.

Noctis swears under his breath and glances to one side before marching to the opposite side of the desk, slipping a hand beneath Prompto's precariously combed hair to brush his forehead.

"You're running fever," Noctis says.

"Maybe?"

_Shit, shit, shit . . ._

He nods towards the papers strewn across the desk. "Those training docs can wait. I'm taking you home."

"Um?" Prompto wipes at his nose with the back of one hand and sniffles. "I can't just leave--"

Reaching across the desk, Noctis grabs the phone and dials the extension for Ignis's studio. No one else would be in there training, anyway.

"Hey, Ignis. Dad left you in charge of Crownsguard training today, yeah?" He slides his gaze to Prompto who side-eyes him with a tilt of his head. "Prompto's sick. Like, contagious sick. You think I could take ---? Ha, okay. Thanks." He replaces the receiver on the dock and gestures to the door. "Okay, let's go."

"Really?" Prompto arches one blond eyebrow. "What'd he say?"

Clearing his throat, Noctis affects his best stuffy, cultured accent. "Tell him to leave the premises _immediateleeeh._ "

Prompto's laughter bleeds into a chest-heaving cough and Noctis sighs. "Come on before you die," he says. "Or before I do."

He reaches for Prompto's hand and the other man shies away with a curl of fingers. "You sure about holding my hand? I mean, I've been--"

Noctis laces their fingers together with a firm grip. "I'm sure."

The smile Prompto offers him is both bright and weary and Noctis feels his chest constrict. It has been less than two weeks since he made his intentions to be more than mere friends known and Prompto has adapted to his every mood, his every nuance, as if it is a natural shift. There are no questions, only shy admissions tossed Noctis's way at seemingly random times that manage to be no less than perfect somehow.

Noctis pauses outside of an empty lavatory before stepping inside to snatch several handfuls of tissues from the box upon the sink. Leave it to Ignis to see that even the bathrooms are furnished with what he deems to be the bare essentials.

"Ignis dropped me off today," Noctis says as they exit the building. "I could call him or we could just take the bus. You know, like normal people or something."

"Don't call him. The bus is fine." Prompto sniffles against the back of his hand and offers a grateful smile as Noctis hands over a couple of tissues. "We peasants sometimes use it, Your Majesty." The smile fades as he presses the bundle of tissues beneath his nose with a flinch and Noctis passes him another. "Ugh, sorry." He gives his nose a short blow before tossing the tissues into the bin beside the bench where they stand. "I'm a disaster."

Shrugging out of his coat, Noctis drapes the thick wool over Prompto's shoulders and draws him close, hands upon lapels, cinching the material together. "Well, we're not going to your place," he says. "You're coming home with me."

"With _you?_ " Prompto rubs at one eye with a knuckled finger. "Are you . . . are you sure you want me there while I'm all--"

"Yes," Noctis interrupts.

Prompto bites his lower lip, glances up at Noctis through a fringe of blond lashes. Despite their red-rimmed appearance, the man's eyes are impossibly blue, a sight Noctis never tires of.

"What's wrong?" Noctis brushes a hand over the other man's freckled cheek.

"Ah, nothing." Prompto's laugh is a familiar unconscious reflection of his continuing adjustment to their new status. "I just wish I wasn't sick."

Noctis slips a finger beneath his chin, tilts his upwards. "You worry too much." He slips a hand over Prompto's cheek and leans in for a kiss, smiling against the other man's mouth when a tiny hint of a gasp escapes him in mild and short-lived protest.

"You're gonna get sick, too," Prompto murmurs.

"You're worth it," Noctis says.

"Noct---"

He presses a finger to Prompto's lips to silence him and nods towards the street. "Bus is coming. Let's go."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Regardless of his insistence that he is not as unwell as he seems, Prompto proves to be otherwise. By the time the bus has made the journey to stop nearest to the Citadel, Prompto has managed to curl up beside him and fall asleep, head resting up on his shoulder, a soft, congested snore rumbling near his ear. The bus does not stop directly in front of the building, but rather a good two blocks from it, yet Prompto will not allow Noctis to call for a car for such a short distance, sick or not. Instead, he walks the remainder of the way with his lover, fingers twined together, pausing only once to give into a fit of coughing before crossing the threshold into royal property.

Noctis bypasses the courtyard and leads Prompto to a separate residence near the edge of the property line just before it crosses into open fields and the woods beyond. Despite his father's offer to put him up in the apartment of his choosing once again, Noctis has settled for a modest, if not small home with limited space and furnishings, most of which he has paid for himself with a part-time job and not his inheritance. Growing up in lavish accommodations has dampened his need for the material and the sparse, yet cozy atmosphere of the house reflects it well. The living room wall is decorated with a single landscape painting, the rug upon the hardwood floor a simple sage green, the sofa just big enough for Noctis to stretch the length of his body upon it, should he desire to do so. No coffee table or numerous shelves of useless knick-knacks. Only an end table on side of the couch with a small lamp that had once belonged to his mother and a wooden stand for the TV occupy the space.

"I didn't know you had your own place now," Prompto says as Noctis locks the door behind them.

"Yeah," Noctis says. "I mean, I guess it's technically still living with my dad and all." He hangs the coat upon the rack near the door. "But I got most of this stuff myself."

"Really? That's pretty cool." Prompto's bright expression collapses into a sudden yawn that ends in a harsh cough. " _Uugh,_ gods."

Noctis sighs through his nose and passes a hand through his dark hair. "Man, you sound bad. You wanna . . . maybe take a nap or something?"

Prompto wipes at the corner of his nose with a sniffle. "If you don't mind me sneezing all over your couch, I guess."

"Well," Noctis glances at the hardwood, as if studying the pattern. "The bed is probably more comfortable. I mean, if that's okay."

The other man's gaze is a soft, self-conscious shyness that brings a tinge of heat to Noctis's cheeks.

"You'll let me sleep in your bed like this?"

What kind of question is that? Noctis grasps the tips of Prompto's fingers and plants a kiss upon the bridge of his nose. "Come on before you fall over."

 

(TBC...)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some cuddling, a little unplanned action, and a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I am the softest wedge of brie that has ever existed, okay? DON'T TELL ANYONE.

Prompto does not need his help to shuffle towards the bedroom, but Noctis slips an arm around his waist just same, guiding him down the hall and into the room near the end where he pauses to adjust the heat for his feverish companion's comfort.

"Hang on," he says as Prompto sits upon the edge of the bed. "I've got some stuff that's more comfortable than that."

He paws through the dresser and returns with a soft grey t-shirt and black knit pants which he hands over to Prompto who eyes them dubiously.

"You think these will fit me?"

Noctis blinks. "Why wouldn't they?"

Prompto glances up at him from beneath the fringe of his blond eyelashes. "Heh, sorry. It's just that . . . well, I used to be a fat kid, you know. Like, _really_ fat. I guess sometimes I still think I'm that kid."

"Well, you're definitely not that kid anymore," Noctis says. He lays a hand upon Prompto's arm and squeezes. "You know you're leaner than I am, right?"

"Eh." Prompto manages a small, nervous shrug and laughs. "It's hard for me to tell."

"Not me," Noctis says. Fingers travel down Prompto's shirt, lingering near the buttons. "I know what I've seen."

"Ha, jeez." Prompto smiles despite the flush of color that smatters his cheeks. But he unbuttons the dress shirt just the same.

After a quick change of clothing himself, Noctis pulls the blankets aside and climbs into bed beside his sniffling companion, inviting Prompto into his embrace, an offer the blond is all too happy to accept. The softest groan escapes him, belying his mantra of being "fine" and Noctis slips his arms around the shoulders that are slighter than his own, drawing him close.

"You really don't feel good, do you?" Noctis asks as he sifts gentle fingers through Prompto's unruly hair.

"I'm okay," Prompto mumbles into Noctis's shirt before coughing into the tissue clutched between his fingers. "Sort of."

Noctis pulls back enough to press a kiss to Prompto's forehead. "I'll take care of you, you know."

"You will?" Prompto's voice is soft, both astonished and uncertain. "I mean, you don't have to."

"Duh." Noctis ruffles his hair with one hand. "I want to."

Prompto curls against him, one leg draping his own, the subtle shift of his body a pleasurable friction against the fabric of Noctis's pants. Damn, can't he keep his hands to himself for five seconds with this guy? It's not like he hasn't know him for years, not like he hasn't seen every inch of him already. Every sinewy curve, every taut plane. Every---

A low groan of frustration escapes Noctis before he can order himself to suppress it. And much to his chagrin, it does not go unnoticed.

"Ah, sorry," Prompto says. "Want me to move?"

"It's fine," Noctis assures him.

He tugs at the sleeve of Prompto's shirt in a wordless command for the other man to resume their closeness and Prompto complies, an action Noctis instantly regrets. The thin material of his sleep pants leave nothing to the imagination, despite his desire to pretend otherwise.

"Um." Prompto's voice is a congested murmur against his ear. "Did I . . .?"

Noctis slides his hand into the mess of spikes near the back of Prompto's head. "Yeah."

A hesitant hand rests on Noctis's hip, the tip of one finger giving the edge of the sleep pants a tiny, barely perceptible tug. "Do you . . . you know, want to . . .?"

Prompto's voice trails into a lingering, tentative question and Noctis grasps the tips of his fingers. Gods, how he wanted this man more urgently than he could vocalize, more fiercely than any need he could ever remember. How was it that Prompto incited such things within him, the shift of arousal an almost painful tightness in the depths of his core that threatened to combust with the faintest touch.

"I don't want to make you worse." Noctis cups Prompto's blushing, fevered face between his palms. "But I just--"

"Ha, I'm sure I'll be okay," Prompto says.

Maybe. But Noctis might not be. The hand that toys with the waistband of his pants creeps beneath them to the threshold of his boxers and Noctis's breath runs out of him in a shiver of sound.

He kisses Prompto's temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. "If you touch me, I might--"

"That's okay," Prompto murmurs. "More than okay."

Fingers breach the barrier of his undergarments, sliding into the thatch of hair between his legs. His breath hisses from between his gritted teeth as Prompto grips him with a hesitant curl of fingers, his hold becoming firmer when Noctis groans and arches his hips into the touch.

He tugs the clothing over his hips with one hand and shoves it somewhere beneath the sheets with his foot, making short work of Prompto's matching pants and boxers, eager for the press of bare skin against his own. His fingers wrap around Prompto's arousal and he feels as though his body will surely rend itself to pieces from sheer tension alone.

"You wanna get on top of me?" Noctis asks between heated, searching kisses.

"Can I do that?" Prompto's breathy questioning only serves to heighten the near-painful need for release.

"Yeah," Noctis pants. He nods towards the nightstand drawer and Prompto does not question the gesture, but rather reaches across him to rummage through the drawer for the lubricant

He gives Noctis a hasty but generous slickening before mounting him with a careful kneel astride his hips, guiding Noctis to the tight entrance to his body. A tortured groan drags its way from Noctis's throat as Prompto takes his time, impaling himself with slow, delicate precision and it is all that Noctis can do to restrain his body's wild enthusiasm.

Prompto shudders, a shivering sigh escaping him, his hand moving in an unconscious gesture to grip himself with a languid twisting of fingers and Noctis arches into his partner so that he sinks to the hilt. Prompto rolls his hips with a subtle grind and Noctis nearly convulses.

_"Fuuuucck,"_ he groans and Prompto laughs with an almost giddy sound.

But it is not the motion of Prompto's hips that proves to be undoing. It is the sight of his friend and lover sitting atop him, a flush of pleasure suffusing his pale skin, the self-conscious man giving way to someone who tilts his head back with a groan, arches into his own hand, and seeks to bring himself to the edge using Noctis as his gateway.

His hands grip the other man's hips and he cannot suppress the outcry that all but tears itself from his throat far too soon, but does little more than further impassion him. Atop him, Prompto's body betrays the beginning of a fine tremor, fingers trembling against his hold upon himself, which Noctis gladly overtakes with his own hand.

_"Ooh . . hnnh . . . Noct . . . ."_ Prompto's urgent, breathy declaration bleeds into a moan and he loses himself to Noctis's touch with a desperate arching of hips.

Tension cinches his core tight and builds into such a heated frenzy that Noctis soon follows a second time with such ferocity that the edges of his vision blacken, sweat beading his brow and dampening his temples.

It is not until Prompto's soft, muffled coughing snaps his attention back to the present that he opens his eyes and gathers the other man into his embrace.

"Was I good?"

_"So good,_ " Noctis murmurs, nuzzling the soft hair near his ear. "You want a shower or something?"

Prompto stifles a yawn against the back of his hand and curls himself more fully against Noctis's chest. "I do, but I'm so sleepy."

"Later, then." Noctis draws the blankets tight around his companion's shoulders. "Just rest."

" 'Kay." Prompto sighs against his shoulder and shifts closer, hands curled between their bodies, hair in damp disarray. "Don't know why you're so good to me."

Noctis snorts. "It's because I'm in love with you, stupid."

"Yeah? Well, that's not---"Prompto smothers another yawn into his palm before suddenly snapping his mouth shut with an audible clicking of teeth. "Wait, what?"

"You heard me," Noctis says.

Within his embrace, Prompto stills until Noctis wonders if he has forgotten how to breathe.

"I --I'm not sure I heard you right, though?" Prompto's voice is a hushed, uncertain whisper. Prompto pulls back enough to tilt his gaze to Noctis's own, the blue of his a sobering clarity, expression serious.

"Please . . . say it again," Prompto says. "I-I need you to look at me when you--"

Noctis captures his face within his palms, thumb dragging the length of one pale, freckled cheek. "I said," Noctis begins, "that I'm totally in love with you."

A hint of a moisture shines in Prompto's eyes and Noctis leans in to press a kiss to his lips.

"I've loved you for a really long time, Noct," Prompto murmurs against his mouth, the faintest fracture of his voice cracking his name into something more tender than any declaration could have ever managed.

"Well, I've been stupid for a really long time," Noctis says. "I'm kinda dense, you know."

Prompto's laugh is a broken, joyous sound and Noctis slips his arms around the other man tight enough to make him gasp.

"You need another blanket or anything?"

Prompto nuzzles his chin. "No," he says. "I've got everything I need."

 

_~FINIS~_


End file.
